


Cold

by orphan_account



Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Be forever yorozuya spoilers, Character Death, M/M, Not Beta'd, This is a translation, i love ginzura!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:55:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8286607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "It was a day with the most beautiful weather: birds singing melodies that couldn’t reach Katsura’s eyes a hundred percent, green leaves of the trees which colors wouldn’t represent anything before his eye, the most shining Sun which warmth couldn’t comfort him. Five years…"





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quick translation from "Frío", so the grammar may not be the best.   
> I wanted to vent about something and this came out naturally.   
> I love GinZura. Next to PapiMami, it is my OTP in this fandom.  
> I also wanted a little of Otose and Katsura interaction, like a mother and son-in-law thing.  
> I hope you like this and, please, comment comment comment!!
> 
> GINTAMA IS NOT MINE. IT IS PROPERTY OF SORACHI HIDEAKI.  
> THIS HAS SPOILERS FROM THE "BE FOREVER YOROZUYA" MOVIE, SO BEWARE.

Katsura woke up sweating and breathing with agitation, as if he just ran a marathon. His eyes looked at the ceiling and, after calming a little, returned to their usual somber appearance. The futon he was sleeping on had that coldness and void that reached his bones. The Sun appeared through a window, but it's light was still not as brilliant as it was five years ago.

He stood up and took a quick bath, then dressed in several layers of opaque color. He put his bandages carefully over his face and brushed his hair, easy to manage with his fingers. Leaving his room and being welcomed by his followers and comrades, he painted his face with a smile. He survived -he doesn’t know how- to the endless meetings and conversations about TV dramas and then proceeded to get ready for something even more important.

He prepared a beautiful bouquet of white flowers and bread fishes with sweet filling; after all, that person loved sweet food. He remembered this detail, grinning. 

“Elizabeth, it is time. I am going to visit Gintoki.” Katsura told his comrade and, because Elizabeth didn’t want to leave him alone, both of them went to one of the graveyards of the city. 

They walked normally, Elizabeth telling him about some governmental problems with his masculine voice and Katsura listening with care, even laughing. They finally arrived at the cemetery. 

It was a day with the most beautiful weather: birds singing melodies that couldn’t reach Katsura’s eyes a hundred percent, green leaves of the trees which colors wouldn’t represent anything before his eye, the most shining Sun which warmth couldn’t comfort him. 

Five years…

Both of them sat before the tomb of his old friend -and something more- and placed the flowers in a container with fresh water. Katsura took out the sweet fish bread and put it before the name inscription. 

“Look, Gintoki! I brought Taiyaki. I assumed that a samurai like you would like to eat one of these once in a while.” He crossed his arms. “I hope you are not tasting parfaits or something like that while hiding, okay? The doctor warned you that you can only have sugar once a week.”

“Katsura-san, let’s pray a little for Shiroyasha. It would be nice for him; don’t you think?”

“You are right, Elizabeth.” Both of them joined hands and began praying for the soul of their comrade, wherever he is. They remained like that several minutes and, little by little,   
Katsura’s face became darker. Suddenly, a whisper could be heard.

“I am tired…” Elizabeth could barely listen to the lament of the person next to him.

“…Katsura-san?” 

With an unenergetic gaze, Kotarou looked at his pet. He pleaded with sadness. “Could you leave us alone, Elizabeth?”

“Of course. I will be over there.”

After a couple minutes of silence, Katsura’s body became tense, as if a demon had wanted to come out of it since a while ago. His clothes were wrinkled thanks to being tightened with his delicate fingers. The countenance of his face was hidden by the soft dark fibers of his hair, the one Gintoki probably took as inspiration to call him “Zu...”

“Gintoki, forgive me. I should have protected what was precious to you. If only I could have understood what you were going through, we could have shared the burden together.”  
Tears appeared over his hands while his body, diminished for now, trembled with impotence.

“I should have known something was wrong when you came to talk to me five years ago. I, more than anyone else…”

He remembered the rainy night when the man of the white kimono had been at his temporary residence to talk about the war, about the coexistence with his Joui comrades, about their days at school and about Shouyou. Katsura had been happy that, finally, Gintoki could count on him to discuss those topics. He remembered the cups of delicious sake they shared and the sweet smile that Gintoki gave him in several occasions. His body could still not forget how in that night Gintoki came close to him and kissed him like never before, like if he wanted to record every detail of Katsura on his own body, like wanting to leave in Katsura a proof that he existed, a fire that couldn’t die easily. Katsura was so intoxicated by his own happiness, ecstasy and disbelief he didn’t care in anything other than feeling his lover by his side.   
Gintoki was beside him the next morning, but he had to leave because of "work". Like a normal day, with the exception that in the moment Gintoki left the house, a terrible anxiety oppressed his chest and it was a sensation he couldn’t get over with the rest of the day. 

Time passed by and Gintoki disappeared completely. The world resigned to his death due to either the White Plague, poisoned mushrooms or spending a lot of time in the toilet, probably being absorbed in the process. There were a lot of theories about why his body was never found. Nevertheless, that was worse for everyone because it kept hope alive. The Yorozuya slowly fragmented and Katsura was too submerged in his own depression that he couldn’t prevent Kagura and Shinpachi from fighting. When he regained strength, it was too late to do something about it.

He wondered if Takasugi or Sakamoto felt as miserable as he was. He envied that those two were far away lost in space, far from the constant memory of his friend that could shake their souls. He didn’t underestimate their pain. No. But he doubted that those two had to live with the daily image of an abandoned Yorozuya, with the absence of his nickname, with those frequent dreams where Gintoki loved him like there was no tomorrow, or with the contrasting cold he felt on his futon every morning when his eyes opened and his mind came back to reality. He would have loved to share the warmth of his dreams with Gintoki until both had gray hair and their faces were full of imperfections.

Five years had passed and the void didn’t leave. A certain conformism existed, and there were yet things to fight for, but it wasn’t the same. It would never be the same.   
Because when he was not dying inside, he hallucinated with Gintoki in other people and other places. It was hopeful and unbearable at the same time.

“Remember when you told me I should have a beautiful life? Thanks to those words, I am alive. Thanks to your strength I could keep going, Gintoki. When I saw you fighting for the world you should have hated the most, you gave me hope. But tell me, Gintoki; how is life beautiful without you by my side?”

He remained crying for several moments. His body couldn’t be calm thanks to all the time he had spent trying to be strong until now. More than he would have liked. 

“Arara, I came here because I thought it would be a peaceful time, but I had not expected to meet another widow.” Otose’s maternal voice appeared next to him. Gintoki’s old protector left flowers for her late husband and, afterwards, left flowers for Gintoki’s tomb with some dango.

“Otose-dono, good afternoon. How have you been?” Katsura answered kindly, doing his best to compose himself and clean his face.

“Ah, every day I am older. But at least I don’t look like the protagonist of a soap opera right now. That would not fit well with me.” Katsura felt a little embarrassed. 

They prayed together in silence.

“Katsura. That bastard wouldn’t have wanted to see you like this. Neither dead, or alive. Or disappeared. You have to look forward.”

“You are right, Otose-dono. I don’t know what I was thinking about. Sometimes feelings come up without warning. But those feelings are what makes you feel you are still alive.”

“At my age I am used to losing people around me. Life is hard, but the people of the Kabuki district need to be harder. There is no other way…” Otose smiled, before speaking again.

“But don’t you think it is too early to lament? Do you think that stray cat would have given up just like that? Are you crying because you wanted to see him at least one more time?”  
Katsura didn’t know how to answer. Those words were strange to him, even at his own level of strangeness.

“I’m sorry, Otose-dono, but I’m not following you. Are you suggesting Gintoki is not dead?”

Otose lit a cigarette, standing up. She inhaled, then exhaled and observed the sky with a smile. 

“Kagura, Shinpachi and that fool of Gengai have started moving. Besides, a weird guy cosplaying as that idiot appeared. Even if it is not him, I must say that cosplay fits him very well. It is not a normal day today.”

After leaving the cemetery, Katsura with the help of the Shinsengumi started investigating. He met that guy Otose talked about. That person had interesting abilities. He made Katsura talk with him as if he was an old comrade. He also made Shinpachi, Kagura and Sadaharu reconcile without much problems and without them noticing. 

One rainy night, a report came to him. It seemed two people that looked like the Enmi and Gintoki were fighting at an under construction hotel. The rest of the Yorozuya were there as well. He ran desperate with Elizabeth in spite of the rain, in spite of everything. His heart wouldn’t stop running. When everyone was there, the confrontation had finished already. In the distance, Katsura saw a figure lying on the floor, agonizing. His hair was what kept Katsura’s attention the most, so he ran towards that person. 

It was Gintoki. Gintoki in his last minutes, infected by the White Plague virus, with tattoos all over his skin, the hair whiter than silver, bandages around his body and a great wound on his abdomen. A fatal wound. 

“G-Gintoki…? Is it really you?” He couldn’t contain his tears. This time he couldn’t care about anything else, because that person precious to him was before his eyes one more time. He got closer to Gintoki and embraced him, trying to give him some warmth and support with his arms. 

“Zura… What are you doing here? You shouldn’t have seen me like this.”

“I-it’s not Zura, it’s Katsura. I finally found you, Gintoki.” He smiled lovingly.

“Are you an idiot or what?” Gintoki’s breathing was weak and his voice could barely be heard. “Did you really have to come searching for me here?”

Zura met his forehead with Gintoki’s, looking at him. “Here and until the end of the world, Gintoki.”

“I didn’t expect less from you… Katsura.”

“Don’t say more, Gintoki! Please… don’t say more.” And to be sure of it, and because his soul was screaming for it, Zura kissed Gintoki. He closed his eyes and tasted blood and the soft texture of his lips. He caressed his face uncountable times like if touching a treasure, remembering between his fingers those silver curls he had missed so much. He had truly missed them and it was lamentable how he was about to lose them again. When he looked at Gintoki, he was sleeping forever. Zura didn’t stop embracing him and giving warmth to that body for an indefinite time. 

Elizabeth came closer to him and placed one of his hands over his shoulder. “Let’s go, Katsura-san. It is time to leave and prepare a good ceremony for Shiroyasha.”

Katsura stood up, carrying Gintoki. He didn’t let him go for the rest of the journey, promising that he would never forget him. 

Because to Katsura, Gintoki was the symbol of unshakable hope in his life.


End file.
